


What A Difference A Year Makes

by SueN



Category: The Magnificent Seven (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-02-27 19:41:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18745768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SueN/pseuds/SueN
Summary: Written for a VinList Character Fic ChallengeA time of reflection for Chris.





	What A Difference A Year Makes

Another year gone by... another year without them...

Outside of his recognition of the date, the anniversary of the worst day of his life, Chris Larabee had lost track of time. He had no idea how long he’d been sitting, slumped forward, his elbows resting on his knees, staring at the two simple wooden crosses, but if the tight ache across his shoulders was any indication, then he’d been there a while. 

The sun had begun its downward track across the clear blue sky, its rays now dappled by the leaves of the large tree which stood a protective guard over the crosses, and afforded him some welcome shade. A slight breeze disturbed the branches and tugged at the wayward strands of blonde hair which perspiration had trapped against his forehead.

Raising the cup held loosely in his hands, Chris swallowed the last dregs of long-cold coffee and grimaced at the stewed taste as he reflected on the differences a year had made. 

To begin with, there was the coffee. 

Last year he’d been drinking whiskey, and he’d been drinking to forget, because remembering was just too damned painful. This year, he’d wanted to remember. The memories had been bittersweet, and some had been painful, almost too painful, but he’d shared precious recalled moments with his wife and son, and tears of joy had mixed with the tears of anguish.

Lifting his elbows from his knees, he sat up and eased back into the chair, hearing, as well as feeling, his spine crack as the pressure was relieved. 

The chair was another difference. 

Last year he’d maintained this vigil sitting, and eventually lying, on the ground as the combination of grief and whiskey had taken effect. This year he’d dragged one of the simple wooden chairs out of his cabin. Not that he didn’t think he could make it to the ground, although his aching back might disagree, but it had seemed more comfortable, somehow more respectful, to sit on a chair to talk to his family. 

And it was out of respect and the love he still felt for his wife that he was wearing a clean white shirt instead of his customary black. 

Sarah had always liked him in white, and for a moment he was lost again in memories of the sound of her laughter as she hung freshly laundered shirts out to dry, all the while trying to discourage a giggling Adam from using them to play hide-and-go-seek……

The scuff of soft boot-steps in the dirt pulled Chris from his reverie and he dragged a hand across his eyes. He didn’t turn around. He’d heard his visitor ride in some time before and knew exactly who it was. 

And that was the main difference this year had made.

In the past, it would have been Buck who’d be there watching over him, making sure his pain and grief didn’t pull him so far down that he couldn’t climb back up. It was Buck who’d put aside his own pain and grief at the loss of the woman and child he too had loved as family while he coped with the mean, cruel drunk that Chris had become. 

Until he just plain couldn’t cope with it anymore. 

Chris’ oldest and closest friend had finally turned his back, walking away in a desperate attempt to save what remained of their friendship. The fact that he and Buck were now reunited said a lot for the strength of that friendship, and for his old friend’s forgiving nature but their relationship, while close, had changed.

Buck was still Chris’ oldest friend, always would be, but the mantle of closest friend had passed to another. It was testimony to Buck’s big heart and generous nature that he’d accepted this, stepping aside with nothing more than a nod of acknowledgement and words of advice to the newcomer.

Now Chris had someone else watching his back in unguarded moments like these… someone whose quiet acceptance of his friendship, through good days and bad, had thawed the cold band of darkness around his heart and pulled him back toward the light.

For a long moment, Chris wondered how he’d gotten so lucky, and the irony of that thought didn’t escape him as he stared, unseeing now, at the crosses. How had a difficult to live with, ornery cuss like him ended up with two good men, each prepared to stand beside him, and call him a friend?

And it wasn’t just two… standing right behind them were four more, as different as chalk and cheese, yet all bound by a bond that saw them ready to follow his lead without being asked, and to lay down their lives for him, or for each other, without a second thought. 

Another scuff of a boot in the dirt and the coolness of a shadow falling across him drew Chris from his thoughts for a second time.

“You plannin’ on sleepin’ out here tonight?” 

The soft, rasping drawl brought a half-smile to Chris’ lips as he acknowledged yet another change; a year ago, his response to the intrusion would have been a sneering ‘what the f*!* business is that of yours?’, backed up by a drawn gun. 

“Was thinkin’ about it,” Chris lifted his head, his keen gaze taking in his best friend who stood before him, his hat held respectfully in his hands as he bowed his head in front of the crosses, “you plannin’ on stayin’?”

“Nope,” Vin shifted his weight, and raised his eyes, meeting Chris’ gaze, “figured I’d head back to town an’ check on Bucklin.”

“Buck?” Chris raised an eyebrow, wondering what the ladies man had gotten himself into that would require checking on.

“Yeah,” Vin sighed, “‘Tween the hurt he’s feelin’, his worryin’ on you, an’ JD tryin’ to cheer him up, he weren’t havin’ too good a time of it when I left.”

“Shit,” Chris ran a hand through his hair, mentally berating himself for not having thought about how hard this day would be on his old friend.

“Not much I can do for the hurt, or JD’s jokes,” Vin continued, “but least I can tell him you’re still sober.” The Texan’s easy smile took the sting out of the words, and Chris pursed his lips thoughtfully.

“Think maybe showin’ him’d work better than just tellin’ him?” 

“Reckon it would, if you’re done visitin’ with your family.”

“They’ll be here when I get back,” Chris said softly. “Besides, Sarah loved Buck like a big brother. She’d likely kick my sorry butt all through eternity if she knew he was hurtin’ an’ I didn’t do anything to help.”

Standing up, he stretched the kinks out of his back then lifted his gunbelt from the back of the chair and buckled it on. Looking back toward the crosses, Chris once again saw Sarah’s smiling face as she waved goodbye and blew him a gentle kiss on the breeze.

“Think I’d’ve liked your wife, Cowboy,” Vin smirked, picking up the chair and falling into step beside his friend as they headed toward the cabin.

“She’d’ve loved fussin’ over you,” Chris snorted. “I ever tell you what a good cook she was?”

“She make biscuits?”

“Best biscuits you ever tasted...” 

~~~


End file.
